Surprisingly, a Half-Truth is a Complete Lie 2-2

There was once a time I saw my Mom protective and angry.

It was for Komachi, when she heard the news, when my little sister bawled on the dinner table. Her face was granite, stiff and unanimated, the shadows underneath her eyes flowing down on her face. It was a scary moment, utterly horrifying, like when you first watch a movie thinking it was merely a 'feel-good' movie, only for it to turn out to be Junji Ito's worse nightmares.

Even Komachi, with her 'emotional blockhead' powers activated, could feel the tension in the room as she slowly scooted away from our dearly terrifying Mom.

I do not claim to know what was going on her mind at the time, I can only imagine it was similar to what was going on in mine. That there was an inkling of instinct, the kind that only those of family would know, as it was something born from familiarity.

For so long as fifteen years, I had known my Mom, just as she had known me. During every step, every moment of my life she was there for me, even if her work held more importance than me. Yukinoshita's words rang true in my mind, I was a burden she wanted, an existence that validated her entire life and her legacy in this world.

If there was something that could immortalize you fully in this world, it's spreading your gene to a person. Writing, scientific development, even memetic fads could potentially immortalize you, but all they would see is the work you put in, rather than the person who made it.

With genetics and child-rearing, you could imbue yourself into the person you have given birth to. And then they would do the same with their offsprings. And then the offspring would do the same with his newly born offspring, also. So on, the cycle continues.

Thus, through the collective of all inputs flowing into them, tradition is born. Through that tradition, society is formed. Through that society, you are immortalized, as you have helped in shaping its destiny, forging its path to the future.

This was the penultimate legacy of Mankind.

It wasn't all that different from animals.

And my Mom, with her maternal instincts urging her to protect her cubs, imposed herself onto Yukinoshita, a stranger in every sense, to intimidate.

"Who are you?"

Posturing herself, she moved closer with a languid, predatory gait. A gesture to show that whatever threat Yukinoshita could supposedly show was laughable in her eyes. Her lilac business suit was buttoned and ironed sharply, its cloth form-fitted and new, in imitation of a class higher than her own.

To her credit, Yukinoshita stayed impassive. Perhaps she already knew all of these power-plays from her high-class parties, filled with oppressively fake people of the rich and powerful and famous.

Sunlight-flashed sky-blue eyes blinked and left my own dull grey. Her hair whipped through the air, though not like a leather whip, but rather a bundle of feathers as it brushed against my face, gently.

That delicate mixture of floral, citrus scents; rich, intoxicating and heady, which reminded me of cherry blossoms with vanilla undertones...

"Magnolia..." the words came out unconsciously.

Underneath an umbrella of pearly-white flowers… a little girl and a boy played, brother and sister... a smile plastered on her face as her onii-chan gave her a crown of flowers.

An angry grandfather…torn flowers and sobbing…

My sister hugged me once I came to my room. The Edison Bulb that dangled above us flashed the flower petals underneath her feet. On her crown laid the stems of the flowers I picked.

I crouched down, scooping up the petals on my hand, in gentleness that I haven't known I possessed. Over her head my hands rested, then poured.

A shower of magnolia petals dancing above her hair fell down on her like white, pearl-like snowflakes.

During my middle school years, my darkest days, I can remember reading about its meaning:

Nobility, purity and the feminine side of life, these are what that flower symbolizes.

And what Yukinoshita seemed to be a personification of.

Once Mom and she were close, no more than a meter apart, you could feel the auras meshing and battling one another.

For what reason, I don't know.

"My name is Yukinoshita Yukino, pleased to meet you, Hikigaya-san," she spoke, her words like string coming out of her mouth like relaxed rivulets.

"Oh, it's my pleasure to meet you too, Yukinoshita-san," my mom said, her intonation and tone different from what she normally uses around family. She used her 'job voice' where she had to talk down clients that were too nosy for their own good.

There is one other time when I remember hearing her use that voice. During my elementary school days, there was a certain day of the week where the day ended at eleven o'clock in the afternoon. My Mom, who worked at that time, had her lunch in that period of time. To kill two birds with one stone, she picked me up at school and took me to her workplace.

"Jozue-san, please refer to the garbage can with your proposal," my Mom's eyes glinted steel, "and place it there so our chief janitor can use it."

Jozue-san, a pitiful fool, one who lacked the ability to read through lines, stood nonplussed. I wonder what was going on his mind when he heard that, but as his face slowly contorted into anger, my Mom swiftly said…

"And please use the exit over there once you are done." His expression shifted into that of surprise, as he stood motionless in shock, unable to comprehend her words for a few seconds.

"What are you gaping at me for? Didn't you understand what I said? Or are you that much of an imbecile that I have to dumb it down for you?" The insults struck down on him incessantly.

"Get out of my office! You are fired! This company doesn't need incapables like you!"

As Jozue-san left, I saw my Mom hunch down on her hand, her glasses taken by two dexterous fingers as she rubbed down the ridge of her nose. I always wondered why she wore those, because she always did that, and always told me that it was because the glasses irritated her nose.

I know Mom's eyesight was as sharp as mine, and her glasses had lenses that only blocked blue light, to which I didn't know why, as blue was the color of the sky. But when she ticked Jozue-san off, only I noticed the subtle twitches in her eyes and the straining her facial muscles did. It was since that moment I had realized that she wore glasses not for herself, but for the people around her.

I blinked off my trip to memory lane.

"Please call me Saori-san, Yukino-san. Hikigaya-san is my husband, and the lump over there next to you," she smiled.

I gazed at them in utter surprise, my mouth agape in incredulity.

What?

"I shall heed your request, Saori-san," and like that, Yukinoshita smiled back, "Once again, I'm pleased to meet you."

What happened to the predating? Did people of the female gender have some sort of telepathy where they could communicate whatever thoughts they want to say? What is this sudden camaraderie between them?

"Well," my Mom started, "forgive me for being blunt, but I see no reason for a girl like you to be beside my Hachiman without any reason."

The air shifted once more. Once more I felt the tension returning. The air was water, filling my lungs with heaviness and my eyes with murkiness, plunging me into its depthness.

No, it wasn't that the tension was returning. Rather, it never left in the first place, and only when the two auras, the two wills, clashed once more, did it gain concretion.

"I came here to bring his books, as we are in the same class."

Yukinoshita answered, after a veil of deliberation clouded her face. I wouldn't have expected her to actually think of her answer, as she seemed to always have something to quip. But perhaps my Mom's bluntness was a hammer, shattering all forms of metaphorics and presupposition.

In any case, my Mom quickly followed, not letting up on her momentum.

"And why didn't they just send it to our house, to give it to him directly?"

"They found it prudent to just use me to send it to him," Yukinoshita once again answered after some careful moments of thought, though she seemed rather uncomfortable with the questioning, like being put on the spotlight so suddenly on stage where you had no lines to say.

I wonder what she could be thinking about with her answers. A lot of these could be answered with straight-shot honesty, so careful deliberation isn't much needed. Then again, who knows what goes on a mind of a modern aristocrat, they're probably so used to speaking in crypticism that they don't even know what they're talking about half the time.

"And why would they? Surely unless someone volunteers, they're going to just send it to the house of the people close to him," my Mom narrowed her eyes, her glasses once again showing the twitch and strain of her facial muscles, exacerbating her already intimidating visage.

"Stop dancing around the topic, Yukino-san."

Yukinoshita, to her credit, while not unfazed, was able to answer.

"That's…I volunteered."

Wait, what? Why'd you volunteer for me? Did I suddenly wake up in a parallel universe, where I was a female, had friends and was totally into me? [8]

What is this opposite world that I've landed myself in?

Mom looked at Yukinoshita with an amused sneer, not of the bad kind, but of a teacher who found a student who learned. She took off her glasses, letting out her eyes of cold steel for all to see, and see they did. If I had anything to say about the intensity of a Hikigaya's stare, I'd say that it's a bloodline limit passed down from Hikigaya to Hikigaya.

I glanced at the girl at my side, whose eyes were bloomed hyacinths.

Mom continued.

"There," she pointed her glasses at the girl beside me, "isn't being blunt better? The rush of excitement as you tell the truth? The honesty of your words contributing to making the world better making you feel ecstatic? Your heart pumping and your brain going haywire? Doesn't it make you feel that way?"

Mom shook her head.

"Honestly, if people were more honest with their feelings, most of the problems in the world would just be nightmares that people could move on."

"Is that so…" Yukinoshita trailed off.

"Look, underneath all of that subtleness is a wish someone has. Two parties hint and prod, they dance around the topic like a mating dance, and if they're successful, they get a compromise…" Mom paused, her brows furrowed in thought, a frown maring her face.

"…That's it, only a compromise."

Yukinoshita fell into deep thought, wrapping one arm around her waist and bringing the other to her chin. As if the floor had answers, her eyes roamed and her head tilted downwards, pondering on my mother's words.

"It's not dancing around the topic, it is merely etiquette," Yukinoshita refuted, finally finding an answer.

My Mom's fists clenched hard, her knuckles turning pallid as the blood halted on her palms. I knew inside of my mother's mind was a storm of ideas and concepts, all being reviewed and thrown away as useless, all of which coming from what Yukinoshita said. There was a lot of things that get her riled up, ranting and raving: this topic was one of those things.

"To hell with etiquette! To hell with long-winded speeches that barely say anything! To hell with pleasantries that don't amount to anything!" her voice was loud enough for God to hear.

"The greatest developments of man is when they are honest with their work, show their reasons in a logical manner, and be themselves. It's when people can say, 'This doesn't work, please revise it, or suspend it,' and not get any backlash that society develops faster."

Mom crossed her arms.

"Etiquette is more than just dancing around a topic, Saori-san," Yukinoshita started, holding the hem of her skirt.

"It is to give respect to the people who you are debating with and to show gratitude that they hear your words toto coelo, without interruption. Emotions can get obviously heated in a debate, therefore adhering to proper protocol could soothe the wooden furnace before it burns down. Until then, it is merely another way to get a topic across."

Mom guffawed.

"If I needed to give respect to the people I am debating with, then I'd do it with my intellect, rather than my words. Floundering about like they're five-year-olds who need to be taught — rather than giving upfront reasons and proposals — is more insulting to them than anything else," she said.

"Besides, if you built your furnace out of wood, maybe that's a sign you're not meant to be debating in the first place."

Hacked coughs from all around the room told me that there was more than Komachi and I as the audience. The old men were tuned in to the conversation that was raging just beside my bed. However, not even the threat of embarrassment under old men seemed to dissuade those two from speaking. If anything, they increased their volumes.

Speaking of Komachi, I whispered in her ear.

"Mom sure likes to talk about these things, doesn't she?"

Komachi looked at me, her eyes half-lidded and her smile betraying her intent.

"Mom's just assessing your potential partners, Onii-chan. It's a thing we girls do, as you guys also do. If you guys go outside and have a talk, and have a beer soon after, then we girls either debate on ethics and bait other girls into answering hard questions."

My eyes widened as soon as I heard that. Komachi still had her Cheshire grin stretched wide across her face. I couldn't tell if she was being honest on not, so I went far deep inside my memory for empirical data to ascertain her claims.

From what I could remember, most girls start off their conversations with, "I talked to…" or "You won't believe what…". At first, I assumed these as mindless gossips, hell-bent on making the people they gossip about live's as miserable as possible, but with this information…

…That explained a lot actually?

Those of the female gender have conversations about ethics and morality as frequently as possible, only disguised as inane conversation so the other party isn't clued in as to what they were being appraised for. This to us of the male gender — who think of their daily debates as mere inane chitter of women — would be surprised about this information if told directly.

From what I could tell with Komachi's perpetually widening grin, it seems that she knew that I was having a realization that could potentially change my life.

How did she know?

She smiled even wider.

Girls are more complicated than I expected!

Komachi's eyes flickered towards the two women beside my bed, specifically to my Mom, then looked at me back.

Was I supposed to watch my Mom?

As if sensing the question in my mind, Komachi nodded.

"So really, it's just plain honesty and facts strung up on words and made coherent to understand. And don't say that you can't be successful by just stating was once a President whose entire campaign was just him listing off his governmental theory in a calm manner, his speeches weren't rowdy or made headlines, they were just brutally honest."

"Saori-san, you're talking about the United States' President Coolidge, correct? His government was a financial success historically speaking…"

I zoned in on my parent's face, as it is the most obvious way to ascertain a person's mood and character to form a concrete thought on them. There, she smiled as she talked to Yukinoshita, her arms becoming more animated as they pointed out different topics that only the two would understand.

What caught me was the fact that she was grinning.

"What's going on, Komachi?" I asked my foremost expert in all things that is female.

If a grin could break a face, then hers just crossed that line. It was so unnerving. That, coupled with unfocused eyes, gave off conflicting energies from her, so much so that I wondered what was going on her mind.

"That, Onii-chan, is a successful marriage interview."

"I need to go to the bathroom," I called out, my voice however not reaching my Mom or the woman who visited me today.

They were so engrossed with topics that I couldn't bring myself to be interested in. Perhaps it was because that I felt like a third wheel in the room. Mom's eyes weren't as strained as they usually are, and Yukinoshita seemed to loosen up around her as well.

In ways I don't know, I felt a tingle in my gut. This feeling was when I first entered middle-school, when people started to get to know one another. I also wanted to talked to them, get along and have fun with them, and get acquainted with a sundry of characters.

That never happened. Instead, I was alone, shrouded my a cloud of mystery that no one bothered to blow away.

Though those days of me being a third wheel in the entire class will finally be over! My (belated) high school debut will happen, and it's going to be great!

Just as I was about to bend my body to grab my crutches, my dear sister had already lifted them up to me. I smiled at her in gratitude as I lifted myself off the bed using the railings. Blankets ruffled, and pillow suddenly gaining buoyancy, evidences that I was laying on this bed in the first place.

With the weight of my body being held by two sticks under my armpits, I slowly moved towards the exit of the room, making my form as diminishable as possible. My actions seemed to be redundant as no one seemed to have noticed me exit the glass door in the first place, as they were all too busy in their own conversation, reminding me that, yes, I was still the third wheel, even if this isn't at school.

Damn rich and successful riajuus!

Just as the door closed behind me, it opened. Out came my sister, who came out with a sickly sweet smile on her face, though it was more of a sneer than a smile.

I wonder why she wore something so nasty in her face. A frown wouldn't hurt, as they were straightforward in conveying emotions, but a smile is something that could hide many, many words beneath it. Which is why a lot of books always reference a smile, rather than a frown, when it comes to emotions that are vague.

I didn't like seeing that on her, as it reminded me of that strained smile she used to give me back then.

Knowing my sister though, if I don't establish the conversation as a serious one, I won't get a straight answer from her. Loquacious she may be, it was a double-edged blade that cuts at the limbs, rather than going for the killing blow. We could talk for hours on end, and nothing meaningful would be discussed.

"What's wrong, Komachi?" I asked.

She looked back at the glass-door, peering straight into it even though it was opaque. Her sneer morphed into a frown and when she looked at me, I knew that I shouldn't interrupt what she says.

"She's the reason you're in the hospital, Onii-chan," she said, her voice echoing displeasure, "Someone told me that she came out of the car that hit you."

I stood frozen, gaping at her in utter shock at the revelation. Emotions of all kinds bubbled deep within my body; my heart beating fast and my breath hitching.

...so even

This isn't something new. Since childhood — where puerile hatred began to condense themselves in the feeble minds of small children; starting from small acts of betrayal of trust washed away by the sands of time, yet kept in miniscule grudges inside one's heart — betrayal was the norm.

Favorite toys were borrowed and never returned.

Pens broken upon retrieval.

Friendships shattered by stupid, little words.

But earlier, when she spoke platitudes about responsibilities and obligations of parents, I was awestruck at her resoluteness. I could feel her steadfast determination to change this rotten world which made me think of her as a sincere, straightforward person.

Then Mom came, revealing her selfish intentions underlying beneath that beautiful, prim and proper facade. And just like that, my illusions of her were shattered cruelly. She wasn't pure in her intentions, nor as sincere in her ways, when my Mom interviewed her like a potential employee.

Let me put this into perspective.

Imagine desecrating a shrine and its occupants, exposing the acts of hedonism behind those paper-lined doors. That was the job she had to do everyday, peering inside people, looking at their gears to see what made them tick. This is what my Mom does, and she does this well.

No one is safe from her questioning.

Though, is it really impossible for honesty to flourish in our world? Do we really have to wear different faces, with different people we meet? Do we really need to do that to accomplish whatever goals we want to?

I wonder if I could keep being true to myself, or if I was even true to myself.

That said, there was still my imouto who was waiting for me to reply. Her statement was open-ended, something I should fill the gap of. How I should fill it, I don't know.

I could also just ignore Komachi and lumber myself to the bathroom. However, that would leave behind questions and grudges that could destroy her, a hatred in her heart that festers every time she sees Yukinoshita. Grudges are useless; that's what I believed in, and I don't want my little sister to hold into any.

Thus I was struck in a conundrum, whether to follow my heart, or my brain.

To be, or not to be the hypocrite which I despise.

"You can't blame her for that accident, Komachi. In fact, you should blame me instead for suddenly riding onto the road in an attempt to save some stupid dog. She was probably just as shocked as everyone else."

In the end, I followed my brain. Listening to my heart just heaped upon me failures after failures, and thus my brain served to protect me. Instincts don't matter when dealing with humans, they only served a function when dealing with wild animals.

"I know — I just — I thought I lost you, you know," she squeezed her eyes shut, in a futile attempt at reining in her tears streaking down her face.

"I-I just, I don't know — I don't know what I'd do- I just can't imagine my life without you Onii-chan!"

If words could move mountains, peaks and valleys, then the world around me turned flat. One emotion, a pure and sincere one, pervaded the reality around me. Goosebumps rose up from my skin, a tingling me, like an unfinished melody forever on its last, and climatic, note.

In the face of such blasé to her own self-showing, how could I not respond in kind?

"You'd probably be the same. You'd be sad for a while, but eventually, my death would come to pass, and you'd move on carrying my memory in your heart. Then, when you die, when mom and dad die, the people who'd remember what Hikigaya Hachiman did would fall nill," I said, doing the imagining for her.

When I said that, I felt a pang in my heart, like an arrow striking through my chest.

When I said that, I saw Komachi clutching her chest, right above her heart. I wonder if she felt the same pang… a cold hand touching you, trying to wrench your soul out… Death's hands caressing your heart.

Talks of your mortality do that.

"Stop being so pessimistic," she mumbled.

I'll give you some optimism then, imouto-chan.

"I'm lucky to be alive, the car that hit me must've weighed a lot. Still, I wonder if being hit by a fat man would be worse," I chuckled, rueful and fearful. I imagined a fat man naked streaking across the hallway just to hit me, and hit me it did.

Though it wasn't a fat man, but a small fist. I saw Komachi with her fist outstretched and another one ready to hit me once more. Her lips quivered, and her body shook. But what caught me was more expressive than both of those.

Where there was a dam blocking most of the water, when she widened her eyes angry at me, water was freed.

"Don't joke like that!"

I held my hands up to placate her.

"I'm not, I'm not… I'd rather not die. If I die, who'd take care of my cute little sister for me? I certainly can't trust mom and dad, who leave my little sister home alone for hours on end. Nor can I trust…well, I don't really have anyone to entrust you to," I smirked at the end. Her face brightened, and I saw the gears in her mind forming a retort.

"You don't have to worry for me, Onii-chan! I've been taking cooking lessons at school! I'm well on my way to independence, unlike you."

She laughed.

Low-blow, imouto-chan. How could you say this to your Onii-chan who had raised you for fourteen years!

I laughed as well.

"The point is, it's fine," I lumbered over to her. Once I reached her, I placed my hands on her shoulders and said, "What's done is done. No use in living in the past where you'd just get depressed from regrets, or thinking about the future where you'd fail to do anything in the present and regret it even more. Carpe Diem, and all that."

Wiping away the streaks of tears that framed her face, I placed a hand on her head.

She smiled, this time without the sneer or the vaguity, and I was rewarded with sincerity.

I came back from the bathroom to find my sister talking to Yukinoshita.

"So Yukinoshita-san, how did you find Onii-chan's room?"

My sister asked the question that I and mom failed to ask. I failed because I was too busy being shocked by a girl jumping off the window coming in the next day to talk about responsibility; Mom because she only asked the why and not the how. Though she might've known about it.

Thus Komachi was left to pick up the slack we failed to carry.

And, to be perfectly honest, I was kind of curious myself.

And I saw another thing that I thought I may never see in my lifetime.

Yukinoshita Yukino, who until now I thought had an ego so massive that she'd confront an Oni herself, bowed.

"The Yukinoshita Family is regretful that such an event transpired at the fault of our family. Thus, the least we could do is make his stay as comfortable as possible with no extra costs to your family," she said, mechanically.

Though she had all those flowery language to cover-up what she essentially meant, I could read between the lines to decipher the hidden message:

"Don't tell anyone that this happened and we'll cover your expenses."

She could speak in layers, too, huh? Should've expected that from a high-class girl with a custom-fit uniform that looked brand-new and made from pure fibers. The question is, how many layers is she wearing on herself?

"Doesn't matter, it's fine," I replied courteously, going the polite way while my family is in the room. Then, I paused. I glared straight into those blue pools, searching for any secrets hidden within their depths.

"We're grateful that you cared enough to show responsibility," I finished, keeping the sarcasm out of my tone for the most part. Though, I wasn't able to stop the stress on the word responsibility, perhaps because I couldn't help speaking out against hypocrisy.

She gave an uncomfortable smile, the kind that you give when a parent caught you doing something you weren't supposed to do.

Silence colored the room white, not even the sound of the television screen showing deaths of Chinese people in their homes could break it. The old men around the room chattered, in subdued voices, and couldn't break it either.

Thus, my sister cut through it. As she walked towards me, putting an arm on my shoulders and back, she said in her usual chirpy voice.

"Well, you seem like a fun person, Yukinoshita-san! I think Onii-chan here is very happy to have your company in this dingy hospital room."

"Speak for yourself," I said to her, bopping her head lightly. "I don't need anyone to be happy."

Komachi looked at me with teary eyes, and I couldn't help but amend my statements.

"I'd be happier if you were here, though."

"Ahem." Mom coughed. She gave me a smile that made me uncomfortable, though that may be because she was straining her facial muscles around her eyes. Whatever it may be, I wasn't going over the yellow lights.

"And you too, mom," I had yet another amendment. A few more and I'd have a constitution.

Mom turned her head to face the window beside my bed, the darkening skies a far cry from when they came here, and the artificial lights brightening her lightly make-uped face. In the sunbeams, her lips glistened as she spoke.

"Dusk is arriving, and I have to drop off Komachi at home."

"Don't you have to work soon?" I asked her. It was honestly surprising how much time she could be off from work. Then again, she is part of the higher management.

"I'd be going as soon as I eat dinner first. You can't tell people off in on empty stomach," she winked, patting her belly.

"And Yukino-san." Yukino-san? "I'll drop you off back to your home, if you want."

"Thank you — Saori-san." Yukinoshita bowed.

When did they come on first-name basis? What went on while they were talking? Is this the power of CHA that was ruthlessly denied to me?

They stood up from my bed, walking towards me. Or rather the door behind me. I saw Komachi going behind me to open the door, while Mom and Yukinoshita walked out.

"Bai-bai," Komachi waved. Mom and Yukinoshita followed along with their goodbyes, though they were more court then Komachi's.

As the door closed, I saw a glimpse of yellow and white, then saw Yukinoshita glancing at it. As she left, her mouth moved, and this time, I couldn't decipher what she said. The door closed on me before I could see what was happening.

The noise of the TV and the old men chattering with one another once more came back to the void that I'd created to ignore them. Once more I was bombarded with inane questions like what they did, who they are, or how they lived. The replies were always so fantastical that I couldn't help but feel a little distrustful of them.

But perhaps that's because all the excitement and fantasy left my life, and I was left with sweet memories and bitter regrets. I can always spin a story that would be considered fantastical by any other people, that would be exaggerated and warped beyond belief, but as brutal honesty could be, it's also boring.

Scientific papers aren't being read like newspapers for that simple fact alone. The masses only cares for what they can imagine, and the more phantasmagoria there is, the better.

Though, both Yukinoshita and Mom seemed to find enjoyment out of it.


Omake apparently

"This company has no place for premature ejaculating limp dicked males like you. I Saori H Britannia commands you, kill yourself this instant!"

His eyes widened in fervor.

"Gladly your highness!"

He let out a surprisingly girly scream while taking his MP 412 REX out and shot himself in his head.

"For the Momland!" were his last words before he died.

"Fucking communists," she spat, clearing his body, as the mystical red sigil flashed in her eyes, indicating the usage of geass.

"MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" she broke into hysterical laughter."I can win! I can WIN! Now, I can finally destroy the accursed Yukinoshitas! Hachiman will be mine forever!"

"Mom I can hear you quite clearly you know," I deadpanned.

"Urk!"

Omake by The Quotable Patella, someone who spots grammar mistakes better than Grammarly.


AN: Anyhow, school's started, expect slower updates under 10k words a week.

Regarding the sudden bout of drama:

This was pretty much plot and character development scene, no fluff other than some random bits.

It's not that I don't want any fluff; it's just that this chapter, Chapter 2, lends itself more to the plot than fluff. And I didn't want any emotional dissonance within the chapters to ruin them, so yeah. This particular part lends itself more to character development too, which is why it seems heavier—or not, I'm not a good writer to make someone feel emotional while reading what I wrote.

Basically, this part boils down to this:

Komachi is suspicious of Yukinoshita, and Hachi-mom, or Saori, likes her. Hachiman is also starting to be suspicious of Yukinoshita, on account of her, while technically not lying, hiding certain bits of information from him, which reason is mentioned in the Yukinterlude.

Yukino is just overwhelmed by the strong characters in the Hikigaya family. Of course, what she felt during that time would be in the Yukinterlude 02.

And as for the OC that I introduced, she comes in the next chapter, and then the GBA starts and will end when Hachiman gets out of the hospital. So, to my plans, there are 10 parts written for Chapter 2.

My justification for this is that GBA is a very, very important arc for the future overarching plot as it affects a lot of things. That and I just want to expand the world a bit, y'know? There are a lot of new places and characters that will be introduced in the later chapters, though it wouldn't be OC-centric or anything like that. So OC haters please don't leave my fic as soon as you read the AN.

Saying any more would be spoilers; only my beta knows where the plot will go.

Questions:

You wrote Yukinoshita in 2-1 saying "our class" to Hachiman. Are they going to be classmates?

Yes, they are. Which is why I left it there. I've also run the plot several times to my betas, and the parts too, so plot holes and other things are found by them. Though, if you can, please tell us a plot hole you find.

Thanks again to The Mighty Zingy and The Quotable Patella for betaing.